


Without Magic

by WeepingRian



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, RCIJ 2016, Rumbelle Christmas in July, Storybrooke, lots of salt, on accident, rcij
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7567219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeepingRian/pseuds/WeepingRian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Rumplestiltskin's magic doesn't go exactly as planned.</p><p> </p><p>Or, the one where I take the prompt too literally.</p><p>Prompt: Rumbelle kiss Storybrooke goodbye</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Magic

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the lovely Dreatine on Tumblr! Happy Rumbelle Christmas in July!

It was the end of the world. Again.

Or at least, that’s what the heroes of Storybrooke exclaimed as they charged into the dimly lit pawnshop on the corner of Main and 4th. It was always the same old story—something about revenge, lost memories, and magic being the _only way_ they could defeat the next big bad monster. 

Rumplestiltskin wasn’t listening. 

He was flipping through his ledger, attempting to relocate a particularly nasty necklace that seemed to have vanished from the shop (and if he couldn’t find it soon, there’d be an _actual_ crisis on their hands). 

“Gold, you have to do this for us. You owe us one,” the Savior growled as she realized he wasn’t making any move towards helping them. He sighed. He always owed them one. It was the price he was forced to pay for his continued existence in this world: he was the banker of this strange, little town and the currency was magic.

He glared up at the princess of Storybrooke, before reaching back and pulling a purple potion from his safe. They wouldn’t leave until he helped them, and he really needed to find that necklace. He had no time to waste on silly trivialities like saving the world.

“Pour this into the well in the woods. It should do the trick.” They grabbed it with nary a thanks before filing out of his shop.

“Don’t forget, dearies,” he called after them, “magic always come with a price, and this particular brand costs $19.95 (plus tax).” The door slammed. “I’ll put it on your tab, then.”

He went back to his ledger and soon all thoughts of the heroes of Storybrooke had fled as quickly as their exit. 

It was some time before he finally emerged from his lair. By then, he had discovered the whereabouts of the necklace (the Muffin Man had claimed it some time ago in order to take care of some… dreary customers) and had checked the rest of his inventory. He needed to make certain that no more tiny mishaps would happen again.

By half past two, he decided that his store was well-enough in order and that he could treat himself a bit. After all, he had been a hero today, and heroes deserve a piece of Granny’s delicious, homemade lasagna (of course, he’d never tell her that). So he closed up shop and headed towards the town diner.

An hour later, he was strolling away from Granny’s, and making his way down Main Street when he saw the Hero Brigade running towards him. He was just as familiar with this routine as he was with the one that had occurred earlier, and he quickened his pace before they could storm him with their problems. If he could just reach his shop, he could lock the door behind him and be free…

“Gold!” He pretended he couldn’t hear the lovely Emma Swan calling his name. “Gold!” she tried again and he moved faster (much too fast for a man with a cane). But he couldn’t escape the determination of a savior and just as he was about to enter into the safety of his shop, she grabbed his arm and swung him around.

“Gold, what game are you playing!” she accused, and for once, Rumplestiltskin was unsure of what she was talking about. It left him disgruntled; he didn’t like being in the dark. 

“The one where I win,” he grumbled, but the heroes didn’t have any time for his temperamental ways and chose to ignore the sentiment. 

“Explain yourself,” Regina snapped and Rumplestiltskin was sorely tempted to turn her into a toad. 

“I don’t know what you’re getting on about, but if you’ll excuse me—” and he tried to make his exit. 

“What is the meaning of _this_?” and Regina stepped out of the way to reveal a rather befuddled young man. His skin was a light purple shade, like grape syrup, and his eyes glowed silver. He was glancing at his hands and flexing them, a perplexed look crossing his face. Every time they curled, his body would jerk as though he was shocked that they could do such a thing. Rumplestiltskin frowned.

“Well, it appears you’re taking prisoners now. Might I suggest a better dungeon that your crypt. Seems everyone can get into that these days.”

Regina shot him a look which would have sent most men quivering. Rumplestiltskin was not most men. He stood there, without a hint of emotion on his face, and waited for Regina to finally tell him what was going on. He knew his apprentice, and she could never fully stand up to him (despite what she wanted her friends to believe).

“That’s not what he is! He just…appeared! Out of the well,” Regina was waving her hands around in agitation, a deep frown scarring her face as she glowered at the imp. He acted as though the news was completely normal; men randomly appearing out of wells were an everyday occurrence around these parts. Stranger things had happened, after all.

Inside, however, Rumplestiltskin was baffled. He had no idea where the man could’ve come from, and had the horrible idea that it was most likely _his_ fault (for once). Something must have gone terribly wrong with the potion. It had to have been an ingredient… maybe a spell… that had caused this, and the only way he could find out was if the heroes would just let him be.

“Well, he’s not my problem.”

“Oh yes he is! This is _your_ fault. You’re going to fix this!” Those words struck too close to what he was thinking and he _almost_ flinched. The heroes would jump on any sign of weakness; he needed to keep his emotions closer to his heart.

“Ah no. I don’t think I am.” He turned around once more and almost smacked into Belle. Her arms were crossed and her mouth set straight. She was glaring at him, and even as his eyes soften and he silently pleaded with her, she refused to back down.

Rumplestiltskin sighed. 

“Come on, then” and he walked into the shop without turning to see if the man was following. He could hear the heroes tittering, and Regina making yet another snarky comment—something about a whip—but he chose to ignore them. It was either that or turning them all into slugs and he had a feeling Belle wouldn’t exactly be pleased with that.

“Ignore them,” she whispered as they entered into the dimly lit pawnshop. Rumplestiltskin didn’t bother to respond, only moving to lock the door behind the stranger. “Those are the heroes of Storybrooke,” she explained, turning to the man. “They can be a bit rough around the edges, but they mean good.”

“I’d suggest staying out of their way,” Rumplestiltskin grumbled. “You shown any sign of weakness and they’ll jump on it. They’ll never leave you alone.”

“Rumple!” she chastised. “They’re actually very friendly people; they just… know how to utilize other people’s skills for their benefit. But they’re always saving the town, and in fact, Regina is Rumple’s best friend, so they can’t be half bad.”

“She is not. She’s the worst of the lot,” he muttered. Belle smiled at him as though he were an enduring child she put up with. He frowned and turned away.

“But that’s not important,” and he looked over the nervous man standing in the middle of the room. He couldn’t seem to stay still. Every molecule in his body was alight with energy, as though he was getting ready to dart from the room. His purple skin made him look gray in the darkness, and his eyes burned through the shop with an intensity that put Rumplestiltskin on edge. He cleared his throat before continuing. “We have some questions for you.” The man made no sign that he’d heard the imp.

“What’s your name?” Belle gently asked. The man finally turned back to look at them.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t have one.”

“Where did you come from?”

The man waved his hands around in an arching motion. “Everywhere. All around. I was this.”

They stared at him.

“I’m sorry,” Belle said at last, “but we don’t understand.”

The man shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting every which way. “I… I don’t know if I can explain. I guess I’ve always been here, ever since this place was created. But I couldn’t really do much. It was like I was sleeping, for a really long time, almost like I was under a spell. I was sleeping and then one day I woke up. I could watch everyone and see everything—I know you. Both of you. You’re Mr. Gold and you’re Miss Belle. I know everything about this place. All its secrets, all its hidden depths, the magic underneath everything. I never had a form, but I was always here. And then suddenly, I was being pulled away. It hurt. I was being squeezed, as though I was a giant trying to fit through a very tiny hole. Everything was being constrained and when it was done, I found myself climbing out of the well. I had a body. I’d always wanted a body, but I didn’t think it would hurt so badly. Did it hurt when you got yours?”

He was staring at them, wide-eyed and innocent. Belle slowly turned to glance at Rumplestiltskin with shocked eyes (and was that fear he saw in them, as well?) before swiftly turning back to the man.

“No,” she stuttered out. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Oh,” the man sighed and he looked so dejected that Belle quickly reframed her answer.

“That is, we don’t remember when we got our bodies. It was a long time ago. It might have hurt, and with the way babies cry when they’re born, it probably does. But it doesn’t hurt anymore. It goes away.”

The man nodded, his eyes still shifting trying to take in everything in the room before stopping on a brown globe in the corner. “That’s good,” he finally muttered. “You know, it’s so different being a part of all this. Everything was just an extension of me before. And now, I get to look at it and touch it and interact with it. I’m part of this town in a whole new way. I always wanted this. I just wish it was on my own terms. I wish I could’ve prepared myself. But these things tend to happen in a magical town, right. ”

Belle and Rumplestiltskin glanced at each other.

“If you’ll excuse us for a moment,” she apologized, before dragging Rumplestiltskin into the back room, away from any prying ears. She quickly darted around the room, closing the window shades and checking the door’s lock. 

“What?” she asked when she saw Rumplestiltskin curiously watching her. “I didn’t want anyone listening in. It’s none of their business.” He couldn’t help but agree. The heroes of Storybrooke were a bit pesky at times. No doubt they were already plotting to send in someone (his money was on Henry) to learn the secrets of the mysterious stranger.

He joined her in her endeavor and they quickly secured the room. When they finished, Belle strolled over, taking his hand in hers and breathing deeply to stele herself for the conversation to come. 

“Rumple,” Belle finally whispered, “I think he’s… _Storybrooke_.” Rumplestiltskin was about to deny what she said, but stopped himself. It made sense. She was—rather unfortunately, he might add—probably right.

“How do we get rid of him,” was the first thing out of his mouth. He immediately cringed as Belle shot him a look.

“Rumple,” she warned, and he tried again.

“I mean, how do we…help…him.”

“Well, he has to be terribly confused. And he probably has nowhere to sleep tonight. He just appeared, so it’s not like he has a home…”

“No, Belle,” Rumplestiltskin interrupted, afraid of where her thought process was going. 

“What?” She asked innocently, her eyes wide, with just a hint of mirth hiding in their depths.

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes. He loved Belle, truly, but she did not seem to value the sanctity of their home and the silence it provided in the same way he did. He was unwilling to give that up, just yet. “We are not taking in any strays! This discussion is over. That’s my final decision. It’s _my_ house and I like it just the way it is, with only you and me.” 

Twenty minutes later, the three were pulling into the driveway of the salmon-colored mansion.

Belle was the first one out of the car, her excitement tangible. Rumplestiltskin and Storybrooke were slightly slower to follow. Storybrooke’s mouth was open in awe as he glanced at the mansion in front of him. “It’s bigger than I thought,” he muttered, and Rumplestiltskin chuckled.

“That’s the benefits of dealing with Regina. She could never figure out how to twist a deal in her favor.” Storybrooke shot him a questioning look, but Rumplestiltskin just shook his head.

“Come on boys!” Belle yelled from the front porch, and the two made their way to her. She practically grabbed Storybrooke’s arm, dragging him into the house and pointing out various appliances along the way.

“You see, this is the microwave. You stick your food in and then press these buttons, and somehow your food comes out warm in a matter of minutes! Isn’t that amazing? Rumple told me that it’s not magic, but something called electricity. I’m researching it in the library, and it’s extraordinary! Really, I almost can’t believe it’s not magic. This world really is so different than the one we’re used to, but I guess you wouldn’t know much about the Enchanted Forrest anyway. Oh, and let me show you how the shower works! If you turn the handle, the water becomes hot!” And she flew up the stairs, Storybrooke’s hand clasped firmly in her own. He shot Rumplestiltskin a terrified look as he passed; the imp just chuckled. Belle had been waiting for a friend for a long time. He wasn’t about to interfere. 

When they finally reemerged, night had fallen. They all ate together in silence, Belle occasionally attempting to start a conversation that neither man continued. She would nudge Rumplestiltskin, trying to get him to speak, but he pretended he didn’t notice. After some time, she gave up.

After dinner, they all did the dishes together and Rumplestiltskin couldn’t help but note how horribly domestic the entire exchange was. He eventually showed Storybrooke to his room, explaining the different uses of a bedroom before wishing their guest a goodnight.

It was some time later when Rumplestiltskin was lying awake in his own room, Belle sleeping softly by his side. He was letting the sound of her breathing pull him into a lull; with each breathe she released, his muscles relaxed incrementally. His mind, however, was racing. He kept going over the events of the day trying to figure out where everything went horribly wrong. He couldn’t understand how the potion had the consequences that it did. He’d made it a hundred times in all his years. It was meant to temporarily freeze magic so that it couldn’t be used, not seal it into a human body. A bit of horse hair, a flicker of gillsweed, a fingernail of the banshee down by the bay (that wasn’t exactly easy to come by)-- the same ingredients that he’d used for two hundred years and never had anything like this come about.

It didn’t make sense.

It must have been the price magic exacted. It was the only theory that made any sense. Why? He didn’t know. But there was no other explanation.

“Belle,” he spoke softly to the darkness. The sound floated away, barely a whisper in the silence. He tried again. “Belle,” he said again and immediately regretted it as Belle began to stir. He was floundering a bit, wondering if he should pretend to be asleep when she turned over. Her eyes blazed into him, a bit of light in an otherwise dark room and for a moment, he was speechless. He couldn’t understand how anyone could do that. It seemed the tiny amount of light left in the room had found its way to her. It congealed in her eyes and he was happily losing himself to it.

“Yes, Rumple?” and he suddenly remembered that he had woken her on purpose, and not just to spend another moment basking in her light. If he could spend the rest of his forever just staring at her and having her stare right back, with all the love in her heart (and he couldn’t possibly understand why such love would be aimed at him) then he would. He’d give up all of his eternity to just have a moment like this every day for the rest of his life.

“Is it my fault?” His question blasted through the air, shattering the calm of the room and leaving it fragmented. He sat up, breaking his gaze from her eyes, and turning away. “Belle, is it my fault? That man was happy where he was. Hell, he’s not even supposed to be a man! But, because I brought magic here, he was forced to watch us, day after day, and he could never be with us.”

He could feel Belle’s gaze on his back, burning into him. The mattress shifted under her weight as she crossed, her arms encircling him-- protecting him. He let out a long sigh, his body relaxing against her. “It must have been lonely,” she whispered against his neck. Rumplestiltskin was reminded of a time when he didn’t have anyone to hold him in the darkness. 

He quickly banished the thought.

“And if that wasn’t bad enough, it was my magic that gave him a body. It ripped him away from everything he’d known and forced him into our world. I don’t know how it happened, Belle. I went through all my spell books, went over the ingredients I used again and again. I don’t know how it happened.” He paused, taking a long breath. Belle’s weight against his back stabilized him, cemented him in the moment when he could have so easily floated off into the world. “I’m no better than Regina, what I did to him.”

“You’re nothing like Regina!” Belle immediately began to argue.

Rumplestiltskin stopped her. “I am. I tore him away from his home and into a land where he doesn’t belong. It’s my fault.”

“Well,” Belle spoke calmly, “what do you want to do?”

They were quite for a while, their bodies moving in synch with each other, as Rumplestiltskin thought. He knew the answer. He’d known for a long time, but it was only just now, with that question, that he accepted it.

“I want to leave,” and there was no wavering in his voice. He had accepted it and now he was determined to see it through.

“This is our home,” but there wasn’t any fight in her voice. 

“Magic tears everything apart. It tore us from our home, and it tore Storybrooke from his. We need to escape it, Belle. It only takes and takes and there will be nothing left of us when it’s finally through. We need to leave while we still can.”

He waited, expecting to hear a hundred reasons why they couldn’t, and a hundred more for why he was terrible to suggest such a thing. Instead he received a simple, “ok.”

“Ok?”

“Ok.”

“Just like that? You’re not going to argue, not going to insist that we stay, that we try to help the heroes?”

“We’ve helped the heroes enough. They need to learn how to manage on their own, now. And we’ll find our way back here eventually. There’s always a way back into Storybrooke, if we search hard enough. But we need to escape this place, Rumple. Just for a bit. It’s for the best… for _our_ own good.

“And anyways,” she continued, “I’ve always wanted to see the world. Of course, I was hoping it’d be _our_ world, but this one is good, too.” Rumplestilskin cracked a smile. 

“When do we leave?” he asked, and for the first time since he had found his son, he was excited.

“Tomorrow morning. Why wait?”

And it was decided. 

The morning brought with it a clear sky and newfound hope. They ate breakfast with Storybrooke, glancing at each other every so often and wondering when would be the right time to tell him. To their surprise, he already knew.

“You two never really belonged here. I know that much from watching this town. You never had a place here. No one ever really understood you, Belle, and no one could ever really forgive you, Mr. Gold. There’s so much more to the world than Storybrooke,” and their guest cracked a smile for the first time. “I’m happy for you.”

“You can keep the house,” Belle promised.

“Don’t let Regina into my shop,” Rumplestiltskin threatened.

He thanked them and even helped pack up the car. By half past nine, they were ready to leave.

“Tell everyone we’ll miss them, and we’re sorry we didn’t say goodbye.”

“I’m not,” Rumplestiltskin grumbled. Belle swatted him. 

“I’ll be sure to tell them,” Storybrooke promised. Belle reached up on her tip-toes and gently kissed his cheek. “Goodbye,” she smiled, before turned to grab Rumplestiltskin’s hand. 

Together, they drove out of the town with Storybrooke waving behind them, ready to begin their adventures in the enchanted world of the Land Without Magic.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed being your Santa! It was a bit different from my usual style (aka less angsty) so hopefully it didn't turn out half bad :)


End file.
